Montana Sky (6 page)

“Came across a campsite yesterday when we were tracking the cat.” Jim sat again with his plate. “But it was cold. Two or three days cold.”

“Left goddamn beer cans.” Pickles ate standing up. “Like it was their own backyard. Oughta be shot for it.”

“Sure that cow wasn't shot?” Jim looked to Pickles for confirmation, a fact that Willa struggled not to resent. “You know how some of those city boys are—shoot at anything that moves.”

“Wasn't shot. Ain't no tourist done that.” Pickles shoved beans into his mouth. “Fucking teenagers what it is. Fucking crazy teenagers all doped up.”

“Maybe. If it was, Ben'll find them easy enough.” But she didn't think it had been teenagers. It seemed to Willa it took a lot more years to work up that kind of rage.

Jim pushed the barely warm beans around on his plate. “Ah, we heard about how things are.” He cleared his throat. “We radioed in last night, and Ham, he figured he should, you know, tell us how things are.”

She pushed her plate away and stood. “Then I'll tell you just how things are.” Her voice was very cool, very quiet. “Mercy Ranch runs the way it always has. The old man's in the ground, and now I'm operator. You take your orders from me.”

Jim exchanged a quick look with Pickles, then scratched his cheek. “I didn't mean to say different, Will. We were just sorta wondering how you were going to keep the others, your sisters, on the ranch.”

“They'll take their orders from me too.” She jerked her coat off the hook. “Now, if you've finished your meal, let's get saddled up.”

“Goddamn women,” Pickles muttered as soon as the
door was safely closed behind her. “Don't know one that isn't a bossy bitch.”

“That's 'cause you don't know enough women.” Jim strolled over for his coat. “And that one
is
the boss.”

“For the time being.”

“She's the boss today.” Jim shrugged into his coat, pulled out his gloves. “And today's what we've got.”

I
N DEALINGS WITH HER MOTHER
—
AND TESS ALWAYS
thought of contacts with Louella as dealings—Tess prepped herself with a dose of extra-strength Excedrin. There would be a headache, she knew, so why chase the pain?

She chose mid-morning, knowing it was the only time of day she would be likely to find Louella at home in her Bel Air condo. By noon she would be out and about, having her hair done, or her nails, indulging in a facial or a shopping spree.

By four, Louella would be at her club, Louella's, joking with the bartender or regaling the waitresses with tales of her life and loves as a Vegas showgirl.

Tess did her very best to avoid Louella's. Though the condo didn't make her much happier.

It was a lovely little stucco in California Spanish with a tiled roof, graceful shrubbery. It could, and should, have been a small showplace. But as Tess had said on more than one occasion, Louella Mercy could make Buckingham Palace tacky.

When she arrived, promptly at eleven, she tried to ignore
what Louella cheerfully called her lawn art. The lawn jockey with the big, stupid grin, the rearing plaster lions, the glowing blue moonball on its concrete pedestal, and the fountain of the serene-faced girl pouring water from the mouth of a rather startled-looking carp.

Flowers grew in profusion, in wild, clashing colors that seared the eyes. There was no rhyme or reason to the arrangement, no plot or plan. Whatever plants caught Louella's eye had been plunked down wherever Louella's whim had dictated. And, Tess mused, she had a lot of whims.

Standing amid a bed of scarlet and orange impatiens was the newest addition, the headless torso of the goddess Nike. Tess shook her head and rang the bell that played the first bump-and-grind bars of “The Stripper.”

Louella opened the door herself and enfolded her daughter in draping silks, heavy perfume, and the candy scent of discount cosmetics. Louella never stepped beyond her own bedroom door in less than full makeup.

She was a tall woman, lushly built, with mile-long legs that still could—and did—execute a high kick. The natural color of her hair had been forgotten long ago. It had been blond for years, as brassy a tone as Louella's huge laugh, and worn big, in a teased and lacquered style admired by TV evangelists. She had a striking face despite the troweled-on layers of base and powder and blush, with strong bones and full lips, slicked now with high-gloss red. Her eyes were baby blue, as was the shadow that decorated their lids, with the brows above them mercilessly plucked and stenciled into dark, thin brackets.

As always, Tess was struck with conflicting waves of love and puzzlement. “Mom.” Her lips curved as she returned the embrace, and her eyes rolled as the two yapping Pomeranians her mother adored set up an ear-piercing din in their excitement at having company.

“Back from the Wild West, are you?” Louella's East Texas twang had the resonance of plucked banjo strings. She kissed Tess on the cheek, then rubbed away the smear of lipstick with a spit-dampened finger. “Well, come tell
me all about it. They sent the old bastard off in proper style, I hope.”

“It was . . . interesting.”

“I'll bet. Let's have us some coffee, honey. It's Carmine's morning off, so we'll have to fend for ourselves.”

“I'll make it.” She preferred brewing the coffee herself to facing her mother's studly houseboy. Tess tried not to imagine what other services the man provided Louella.

She moved through the living area, decorated in scarlets and golds, into a kitchen so white it was like being snow-blinded. As usual, there wasn't a crumb out of place. Whatever else Carmine did during his daily duties, he was tidy as a nun.

“Got some coffee cake around here, too. I'm hungry as a bear.” With her dogs scrambling around her feet, Louella rummaged in cupboards, through the refrigerator. Within minutes there was chaos.

Tess's lips twitched again. Chaos followed her mother around as faithfully as the yapping Mimi and Maurice did.

“You meet your kin out there?”

“If you mean the half sisters, yes.” With trepidation, Tess eyed the coffee cake her mother had unearthed. Louella was slicing it into huge slabs with a steak knife. Being transferred to a plate decorated with gargantuan roses were approximately ten billion calories.

“Well, what are they like?” With the same generous hand, Louella cut a piece for her dogs, setting the china plate on the floor. The dogs bolted cake and snarled at each other.

“The one from wife number two is quiet, nervous.”

“That's the one with the ex who likes to use his fists.” Clucking her tongue, Louella slid her ample hips onto the counter stool. “Poor thing. One of my girls had that kind of trouble. Husband would as soon beat the shit out of her as wink. We finally got her into a shelter. She's living up in Seattle now. Sends me a card now and again.”

Tess made a small sound of interest. Her mother's girls were anyone who worked for her, from the waitresses to the bartenders, the strippers to the kitchen help. Louella embraced them all, lending money, giving advice. Tess had
always thought Louella's was part club, part halfway house for topless dancers.

“How about the other one?” Louella asked as she attacked her coffee cake. “The one that's part Indian.”

“Oh, that one's a real cowgirl. Tough as leather, striding around in dirty boots. I imagine she can punch cattle, literally.” Amused at the thought, Tess poured out coffee. “She didn't trouble to hide the fact that she didn't want either of us there.” With a shrug, she sat down and began to pick at her cake. “She's got a half brother.”

“Yeah, I knew about that. I knew Mary Wolfchild—at least I'd seen her around. She was one beautiful woman, and that little boy of hers, sweet face. Angel face.”

“He's grown up now, and he's still got the angel face. He lives on the ranch, works with horses or something.”

“His father was a wrangler, as I recall.” Louella reached in the pocket of her scarlet robe, found a pack of Virginia Slims. “How about Bess?” She let out smoke and a big, lusty laugh. “Christ, that was a woman. Had to watch my
p
's and
q
's around her. Had to admire her—she ran that house like a top and didn't take any crap off Jack either.”

“She's still running the house, as far as I could tell.”

“Hell of a house. Hell of a ranch.” Louella's bright-red lips curved at the memory. “Hell of a country. Though I can't say I'm sorry I only spent one winter there. Goddamn snow up to your armpits.”

“Why did you marry him?” When Louella arched a brow, Tess shifted uncomfortably. “I know I never asked before, but I'm asking now. I'd like to know why.”

“It's a simple question with a simple answer.” Louella poured an avalanche of sugar into her coffee. “He was the sexiest son of a bitch I'd ever seen. Those eyes of his, the way they could look right through you. The way he'd cock his head and smile like he knew just what he'd be up to later and wanted to take you along.”

She remembered it all perfectly. The smells of sweat and whiskey, the lights dazzling her eyes. And the way Jack Mercy had swaggered into the nightclub when she'd been
onstage in little more than feathers and a twenty-pound headdress.

The way he'd puffed on a big cigar and watched her.

Somehow she'd expected that he'd be waiting for her after the last show. And she'd gone with him without a thought, from casino to casino, drinking, gambling, wearing his Stetson perched on her head.

Within forty-eight hours, she'd stood with him in one of those assembly-line chapels with canned music and plastic flowers. And she'd had a gold ring on her finger.

It was hardly a surprise that the ring had stayed put for less than two years.

“Trouble was, we didn't know each other. It was hot pants and gambling fever.” Philosophically, Louella crushed out her cigarette on her empty plate. “I wasn't cut out for life on a goddamn cattle ranch in Montana. Maybe I could've made a go of it—who knows? I loved him.”

Tess swallowed cake before it stuck in her throat. “You loved him?”

“For a while I did.” With the ease of years and distance, Louella shrugged. “A woman couldn't love Jack for long unless she was missing brain cells. But for a while, I loved him. And I got you out of it. And a hundred large. I wouldn't have my girl, and I wouldn't have my club if Jack Mercy hadn't walked in that night and taken a shine to me. So I owe him.”

“You owe the man who kicked you, and his own daughter, out of his life? Cut you off with a lousy hundred thousand dollars?”

“A hundred K went a lot farther thirty years ago than it does today.” Louella had learned to be a mother and a businesswoman from the ground up. She was proud of both. “And from where I'm sitting, I got a pretty good deal.”

“Mercy Ranch is worth twenty million. Do you still think you got a good deal?”

Louella pursed her lips. “It was his ranch, honey. I just visited there for a while.”

“Long enough to make a baby and get the boot.”

“I wanted the baby.”

“Mom.” Most of Tess's anger faded at the words, but the injustice of it remained hot in her heart. “You had a right to more. I had a right to more.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but that was the deal at the time.” Louella lit another cigarette, decided to be late for her afternoon session at the beauty parlor. There was more here, she thought. “Time goes on. Jack ended up making three daughters, and now he's dead. You want to tell me what he left you?”

“A problem.” Tess took the cigarette from Louella's hand and indulged in a quick drag. Smoking was a habit she didn't approve of—what sensible person did? But it was either that or the several million calories still on her plate. “I get a third of the ranch.”

“A third of the—Good Jesus and little fishes, Tess, honey, that's a fortune.” Louella bounced up. She might have been five ten and a generous one-fifty, but she'd been trained as a dancer and could move when she had to. She moved now, skimming around the counter to crush her daughter's ribs in an enthusiastic hug. “What are we doing sitting here drinking coffee? We need ourselves some French champagne. Carmine's got some stashed somewhere.”

“Wait. Mom, wait.” As Louella tore into the fridge again, Tess tugged on her robe. “It's not that simple.”

“My daughter the millionaire. The cattle baron.” Louella popped the cork, spewing champagne. “Fucking A.”

“I have to live there for a year.” Tess blew out a breath as Louella cheerfully clamped her mouth over the lip of the bottle and sucked up bubbles. “All three of us have to live there for a year, together. Or we don't get zip.”

Louella licked champagne from her lips. “You have to live in Montana for a year? On the ranch?” Her voice began to shake. “With the cows? You, with the cows.”

“That's the deal. Me, and the other two. Together.”

One hand still holding the bottle, the other braced on the counter, Louella began to laugh. She laughed so hard, so long that tears streamed down her face, running with Maybelline mascara and L'Oréal ivory base.

“Jesus H. Christ, the son of a bitch always could make me laugh.”

“I'm glad you think it's so funny.” Tess's voice cracked like ice. “You can chuckle over it nightly while I'm out in bumfuck watching the grass grow.”

With a flourish, Louella poured champagne into the coffee cups. “Honey, you can always spit in his eye and go on just as you are.”

“And give up several million in assets? I don't think so.”

“No.” Louella sobered as she studied her daughter, this mystery she had somehow given birth to. So pretty, she mused, so cool, so sure of herself. “No, you wouldn't. You're too much your father's daughter for that. You'll do the time, Tess.”

And she wondered if her daughter would get more out of it than a third interest in a cattle ranch. Would the year soften the edges, Louella wondered, or hone them?

She lifted both cups, handed one to Tess. “When do you leave?”

“First thing in the morning.” She sighed loud and long. “I've got to go buy some goddamn boots,” she muttered, then with a small smile toasted herself. “What the hell. It's only a year.”

 

W
HILE TESS WAS DRINKING CHAMPAGNE IN HER
mother's kitchen, Lily was standing at the edge of a pasture, watching horses graze. She'd never seen anything more beautiful than the way the wind blew through their manes, the way the mountains rose behind, all blue and white.

For the first time in months, she had slept through the night, without pills, without nightmares, lulled by the quiet.

It was quiet now. She could hear the grind of machinery in the distance. Just a hum in the air. She'd heard Willa talking to someone that morning about harvesting grain, but she had wanted to stay out of the way. She could be alone here with the horses, bothering no one, with no one bothering her.